


In His Dreams

by rc6188



Series: Aftermath [2]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Cherry Blossoms, Confessions, Dreams, First Kiss, Kisses, M/M, Post-Canon, kinda angsty but kinda fluffy, scho and blake being soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22433965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rc6188/pseuds/rc6188
Summary: Most nights, Schofield wakes up screaming, throat raw and hoarse, skin aflame and glittering from a film of sweat. But sometimes, life’s kinder to him. Sometimes, he dreams of a cherry blossom orchard in the spring.And Blake’s there. Alive and well.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Series: Aftermath [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621396
Comments: 13
Kudos: 113





	In His Dreams

Most nights, Schofield wakes up screaming, throat raw and hoarse, skin aflame and glittering from a film of sweat. It usually takes him a couple of minutes to calm the race of his heart, still the wandering of his hands that still search for the weight of his rifle, and swipe away the streaks that have made their way down his cheeks. Afterward, he leans against the smooth hardwood of his bedframe—the only thing in the dark cul-de-sac of his bedroom that reminds him that he’s not in the trenches—and wraps shaking arms around his knees. Schofield used to find solace in the darkness; back when it meant a few hours of chaotic tranquility that was penetrated by the soothing, even breaths that came from the sleeping form of Blake. Now, the darkness that blots his vision is suffocating, transforming into harrowing images he never wants to relive.

But sometimes, life’s kinder to him. Sometimes, instead of dreaming about Blake’s face twisted in pain as Schofield desperately tries to staunch the flow of blood to no avail, he dreams of a cherry blossom orchard in the spring.

And Blake’s there. Alive and well. The color’s back in his cheeks, taking on the same shade as the delicate pink petals. He’s standing in front of Schofield, golden head turned back to look at him, full smile stretching across his lips.

The immense relief that floods Schofield almost sends him careening backwards.

“What are you waiting for, Scho? We’re almost there.” Blake yells while he beckons for Schofield to follow him.

The sound of Blake’s cheery voice makes Schofield’s heart swell in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He wants to bottle it up and keep it forever. He wants to keep _all of this_ forever; the sweet breeze, the sprawling field that was covered in blossoming cherry trees, and most of all, Blake.

Schofield chases after him, feeling impossibly light on his feet. When he catches up, he falls in stride with Blake, and he can’t help but stare at him. He’s never seen Blake look so young and carefree. His golden hair seems to glitter in the sunshine and a few wisps of it falls across his forehead, which was no longer marred by dirt and grime. Blake’s dressed in civilian garb, a white tee and some tan pants, and Schofield decides that he likes this look on Blake. He’d like to think that this is what Blake was like at home, when war wasn’t on the horizon and life was simpler.

Blake takes notice of Schofield’s blatant staring and snickers, “Oi mate, I know I’m handsome but could you tone down on the staring, it’s making me nervous.”

Schofield fights the warmth that’s climbing up his cheeks.

“Piss off, Blake. If only your brain were as big as your ego.” Schofield returns, a small grin pulling up the corner of his mouth.

Blake laughs loudly in response, eyes crinkling, and Schofield’s grin turns into a full-blown smile.

When Blake stops, it’s at the bottom of a particularly large and towering tree that was in full bloom. Underneath, a thin sheet of pink petals litters the grassy field.

“This is it, Scho.” Blake says as he lies down and pats the space next to him. 

Schofield gingerly comes down next to Blake’s relaxed form. 

Blake sighs contently and starts, “Joe and I used to always do this after a long day of picking. Lie down and rest in the shade, maybe take a nap.”

He smiles at the memory and then inches closer to Schofield, propping himself up on an elbow. He continues, “There was this one time, Joe had fallen asleep and I thought it’d be hilarious if I took a blossom and stuffed it up one his nostrils.”

Schofield huffs out a laugh, “You’re an idiot, Blake.”

“That’s what mum said too after Joe woke up and accidentally inhaled it and choked.”

It’s only when their laughter fades that Schofield realizes how close Blake is. He’s hovering over Schofield, blue irises glinting mischievously and a faint smile still gracing his lips. Then all of a sudden, Blake’s reaching over and Schofield feels fingers in his hair.

“What are you doing?” Schofield asks, hoping that Blake doesn’t pick up on his nervousness or the rapid beating of his heart.

“Relax, Will. I’m picking petals out of your hair.” Blake shoves one in front of Schofield’s face to prove his point.

But a couple minutes later, when Schofield’s sure that all the petals are gone, Blake’s fingers are still in his hair, gently carding and running through the tufts. Blake’s looking down at Schofield, all rosy cheeks and soft eyes. Schofield’s never felt happiness like this, but every time he’s come close, he’s been with Blake. It was something that he refused to confront during the war, instead choosing to lock it up in fear that he would do or say something that he regretted. But they weren’t in the war now, were they? They were lying in a cherry blossom orchard without a soul nearby, just Schofield and Blake.

Schofield’s already accumulated too many regrets to not say anything now.

“Tom,” Schofield starts, “you were my best mate during the war. At one point, you became the reason why I still got up each morning and faced the day. I looked up to you—your bravery, selflessness, and how fearless you were. You’re the reason I’m still alive.” He takes in a shuddering breath, “You mean so much to me and I miss you everyday.”

If Blake’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he grins and says, “Never thought I’d hear you say it, Scho.”

Schofield’s the one that’s visibly taken aback. _Tom had known_ and the thought of that sends waves of relief flooding over him. Suddenly emboldened, Schofield reaches up with a hand and cups Blake’s cheek, his thumb tracing the faint freckles that dusted his skin.

Blake’s leaning into his touch when he murmurs, “You remember that night when we were on patrol together?” Schofield nods immediately; there really wasn’t another night like it. Blake goes on anyway, “We were having a rest against some big oak tree and I was telling some barmy story and you were laughing so hard, Will. We were so happy.”

Blake pauses, taking Schofield’s hand that was on his cheek and threading their fingers together. “Then I went and ruined the moment by kissing you.”

Of course Schofield remembers that moment; the sudden surge of warmth, fear, anger, and regret. He’d pushed Blake off as quickly as he could, despite every single bone in his body protesting. Blake had looked so hurt that Schofield almost grabbed both of his lapels, hauled him in, and actually shown him how much he’d wanted it. Instead, he’d snapped at Blake and asked how he could be so careless. _We can’t do this here, Blake. You know very well why. You know what they do to people like us if anyone were to find out. It’d be the end of both of us._ Blake had withered, but in the end, it seemed as if he’d understood and he never tried it again.

It was one of his biggest regrets. So now, Schofield sits up, meeting blue eyes that mirror his, and leans in slowly until their lips finally meet. Blake makes a tiny sound and warmth fills Schofield to the brim. He deepens the kiss and pushes Blake into grass, settling on top of him. Schofield has one hand around the nape of Blake’s neck, thumb brushing against his jawline, and the other is bracketed around Blake’s head, because he’s never letting him go. When he pulls back for air, Blake’s smile lights up his whole face and there are cherry blossom petals falling all around them, and Schofield decides that this is true happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> it's currently 2:00am and i wrote this all in one go because 1917 has officially wrecked me. what a phenomenal movie (deakins is a genius). i loved the boys so much and had to write something that highlighted their beautiful relationship. i hope you guys like it and i might come back with another one that's less angsty to soothe my own soul. :)


End file.
